


Ya Paid For This

by supervillainesses



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: F/F, I'm not the best at writing the batfam I know my bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supervillainesses/pseuds/supervillainesses
Summary: Ivy, frustrated at Harley always finding the perfect gift for any occasion, calls in unlikely help to get the bubbly jester something she will actually enjoy for a change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao look another Christmas fic, I think this is the fifth one I've written for Harley and Ivy. This one is from 2014, so it's old and not at Peak Freshness but it's still enjoyable

            According to Harley, when the Robins were really little she would occasionally show up to a heist with a small trinket in tow.

            She claimed she felt bad for them; the reasons for why they were so young when they started out was a matter clear only to Batman, but Harley claimed that in the early days, before Pam began crossing paths with the Bats, there would be long nights of evading the kicks of sleepy boys dressed like heroes on rooftops. Pam had to admit, the prospect of grappling with children that should have been in bed, readying for school the next day, would get pretty depressing. And disconcerting. It was a miracle the Department of Social Services hadn’t issued a warrant for Batman’s arrest what with his flagrant disregard to child safety laws.

            Wind-up toy cars, jacks that didn’t explode when thrown to the floor, the occasional rubber chicken; most of the toys she handed over to the kids were inconsequential, but she thought it somehow made those boys feel better at the end of the night.

            “So I admit it,” Harley shrugged, “I’m kinda like Selina. I’ve got a soft spot for the caped losers. Mama’s also a sucker for the kids. It was easier to duke it out with them when they got older, and got Batgirl, but I think those first few years were the most fun I ever had on those rooftops. Selina used to joke that I was the worst babysitter ever. It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? We fight each other all the time, but in another world…gosh, Pam. I think we could all be friends. Messed up friends, but friends all the same.”

            Pam assured her that she had done the right thing. They were, after all, just children. Children that occasionally decked you in the face, but still children. She imagined that when Harley had been “fighting” those boys, she was mostly issuing a game of tag.

            It wasn’t just the charitable sort of gifts Harley was good at giving. Every year, every holiday, some that weren’t even gift-giving, Pam and Selina received the perfect present without fail. What made Pam sick at the thought of it was the fact that Harley _paid_ for every present she gave out of pocket, and Pam was notoriously wretched at giving gifts.

            If she heard Selina say, “Gee, thanks, another fern,” upon receiving a plant which _distinctly was flowering, while ferns were bloomless_ , she would force-feed the woman heartworm medication.

            When it came to shopping for Harley, Pam took the approach of shopping for herself. It was sufficient, but she knew that at her core Harley didn’t truly care for the scarves or shoes Pam bought for her. The clown just wasn’t the sort to wear designer pumps or heels the way Pam indulged in when she bothered to cover her feet. Also, she stole whatever she gave to Harley. In Pam’s eyes, looting a store was worth every inch the effort of working a 9-5 and buying it square.

            Harley deserved better. Something she wanted.

            She just had no idea how to do that.

* * *

 

            “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Pam said it quickly, but clearly so she wouldn’t have to repeat herself.

            “Um, yeah…no problem…listen, are you going to commit a crime? Or am I just wasting my time, here?” Batgirl asked, leaning against a chimney stack. The winter winds whipped at her hair, only a few shades more brown than Pam’s. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming when you sent that freaky plant through the window of the Joker hideout me and the boys were raiding.”

            “It was a Chinese Black Batflower—I thought you’d appreciate the gesture.”

            “Uh, no. Actually, I kind of wanted to puke when it touched me as it dropped the note. Batman might’ve appreciated it, though. He’s super in to bat-puns.”

            Pam arched a brow at Batgirl’s costume. “Clearly. You’ve known Harley awhile, right?”

            “Known? Punched? What’s the difference, I guess. Yes, why? Is she okay?”

            “Would you do something if she wasn’t?”

            “It’s like Nightwing says, Harley’s the least crazy of all of Arkham. It’s why Batman goes so easy on her when she’s caught; he thinks she can change.”

            Pam chuckled deeply, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Batgirl, nose crinkling, flipped her hair, too. Pam frowned. “If you think Harley’s innocent, you haven’t seen the madness beneath. My girl is equal parts lion and lamb.”

            Batgirl’s mask flexed with the upward arch of her brow, a knowing smirk on her face. “ _Your_ girl, huh?”

            “Moving on,” Pam cut in quickly before she could blush. “If you were to, say, give her a… _gift_ , what would you give her?”

            Both of Batgirl’s brows rose this time. “You pulled me from a mission to consult you on _holiday shopping?_ ”

            Pam shrugged.

            “I dunno, bath products or something?”

            “And let her bathe in the chemical filth? The swill and byproduct of bastardising countless harmless plants in the name of smelling like what cosmetic companies would have you believe smells like a _rosebush?_ Not an option. Next.”

            Batgirl stood there, her hand on her chin, for a long moment. “Hang on one second.”

            She pulled out a hand radio and turned away. “Hey, when you’re finished, meet me three blocks east of your current position. Apartment complex. Oh, also, Ivy’s with me. Unarmed. It’s…um…a special circumstance.”

            “Who did you call?” Pam asked, doing her best not to laugh at the implication she was unarmed. She wasn’t in the mindset to strike, but she was never unarmed.

            “Listen, if I’m completely honest with you, I’m the worst at giving gifts. I’ve given my dad the same shaving set since I was sixteen, and each of the boys have gotten the same present, too. We need creative minds.”

            The sound of grappling hooks locking into concrete (something any criminal on the wrong end of Batman’s attention knew intimately around these parts) filled the night air, and three costumed figures joined Pam and Batgirl on the rooftop.

            “Unfortunately, these three are our only resources right now.”

            “Ivy, hi.” Nightwing, née Robin, waved awkwardly. “Nice to see you, knowing you aren’t going to try and blow some freaky spores in my face. Hopefully. You look lovely tonight; is that new green lipstick? It looks wonderful.”

            Batgirl placed a hand on his shoulder, silently shaking her head.

            “This is weird,” Red Robin, also née Robin, noted with his arms folded uncomfortably. “But, hi, Ivy?”

            “Did you three capture Joker?” Pam asked, trying to keep the hopeful edge out of her tone, though wasn’t sure why. There was no way the Bats didn’t know of her undying hatred of that purple-suited menace.

            “He’ll be back in Arkham by morning,” Red Robin assured. “Hopefully longer than three months this time. Harley’s…healed up by now, right?”

            Pam’s hand clenched into a fist. “With my help, yes.”

            “Good,” both Red Robin and Nightwing sighed. With Harley’s explanation of their early years together, Pam finally had a basis as to why the Bat Children were so fond of Harley. Then again, Harley was hard to hate.

            “Shouldn’t we be arresting this old broad?”

            “You must be the newest Robin. Harley calls you ‘a scrunch-faced little monkey menace child.’”

            “Yeah, and that old hag should be arrested, too.”

            “Hey, hey, hey,” Nightwing covered Robin’s mouth before Pam could recover from her indignation. “Sorry, he’s entirely insane. Why are we here?”

            “Ivy wants to get _her girl_ a present, but doesn’t know what to get her.” If it weren’t for their unspoken truce, Ivy would punch the shit-disturbing grin from Batgirl’s face.

            “Oh, then I’m out. I’m worse than you when it comes to gift giving, Batgirl. I’ll keep up with patrol so Batman doesn’t tear us all a new one.” Red Robin pulled up his hood and shot off into the dark with his grappling hook.

            “First things first,” Nightwing began, hands on his hips. “Are we looking to romance her, or entertain her?”

            “I’d like to follow the kid’s lead and leave, too.” Pam muttered, still not believing she let Selina talk her into this. “I just want to give her something _she_ actually wants.”

            “ _Without_ breaking the law?” He added.

            “Nightwing, that should have been your first question,” Batgirl sighed.

            “Semantics. What about bath stuff?”

            “You want me to buy her something that would submerge her in planet-ruining—”

            “We’ve been down this road,” Batgirl cut Pam off.

            “Okay, how about dinner and a movie?” The senior Robin suggested.

            “She wants to give her a gift, not take her on a date,” Batgirl sighed.

            “Jewelry?”

            “You realize that there’re plenty of times Harley and I have heisted a jeweler’s and the loot was never recovered, right? Trust me; we’re good on the jewelry front.”

            “Candy and flowers?”

            Pam summoned up vines from along the apartment complex and bound Nightwing like a snitch would be wrapped in carpet. That neither Robin nor Batgirl moved to free the idiot spoke volumes on their relationship.

            “This is stupid,” Robin huffed, but made no move to leave. Of all Robins, this one was more stubborn than the previous three combined.

            “What would _you_ give, Robin?” Batgirl asked, hands on her utility belt, her hip cocked. She glanced sidelong at Pam and flipped her red hair. Pam, scowling, flipped hers, too.

            “I don’t know. Just buy her a yacht.”

            “Okay, both you and Nightwing are banned from the present committee—hold on.” Batgirl pressed her fingers to her ear; using that in-costume communication system. “Sorry, Batman. We’ve, uh, got a hold-up on a rooftop. Ivy. No, no action needed. Nonlethal. Truce. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh? Really? Are you—? Okay.”

            Batgirl pulled the receiver out of her cowl and tossed it to Pam. “What do I do with this?”

            “Stick it in.”

            “That’s what she said,” Nightwing muttered on the ground; both Pam and Batgirl kicked his leg for the remark.

            Pam, scowling deeper than ever before, stuck the headset into place. “Hello?”

            “Pamela,” she hated it when Batman used her name. Her identity may not be secret, but he could at least have the professional courtesy to call her Ivy. “You’re distracting them from their job. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t track you all down and take you in for impeding their work.”

            “I’m trying to buy a present for my—for Harley.”

            There was a long crackling silence on Batman’s line.

            “Sir,” came a dapper voice. “If I may be so bold, might I offer some assistance?”

            Pam heard the sound of someone changing seats. “Ms. Isley, pardon my intrusion. My name is Alfred. I hear you’re having trouble choosing a present for Ms. Quinn?”

            “Oh God,” Pam wanted to walk right off the roof and end her misery. “Yes.”

            “And why is that?”

            She didn’t want to answer, but his voice—warm and old and posh—was so reassuring. She covered her mouth and the receiver. For whatever reason, she gave this Alfred a full rundown on why she had done this at all.

            “Mm-hm…well, it seems you already have your answer.”

            “Excellent, I wasted all this time for a copout. Selina’s going to get an earful.”

            “Tell her off double for me,” it was rare when Batman had humor in his voice. Pam almost wished Harley was here to hear it.

            “Ms. Isley, it appears you sincerely want Ms. Quinn to have a good Christmas. It’s a rather tired phrase, but the holiday isn’t just about the presents. It sounds like Ms. Quinn puts her heart and spirit into everything she gives. Whatever you give her, so long as it’s something you put effort and thought into, she will love it absolutely.”

            “Why are you all so willing to help me?”

            The line was crackling with silence again.

            “The man, or beast, I should say, Ms. Quinn has associated herself with has taken many precious things away from this family. If he has done such harm to people who, by all means, spend marginal time with him, imagine just what he’s done to someone in such proximity as Ms. Quinn. No one deserves that, and yet she’s held up remarkably well, so I’ve heard. To undergo time spent with someone so evil and still maintain a smile…well, I suppose that person is rather brave, isn’t she? Sometimes, it is the ones who speak the least of their pain that feel it most. When you come across someone like that, someone full of such unspeakable sadness, you do everything in your power to do right by them. Even if it means allowing them to run around in a costume across rooftops in the dead of night.”

            “Hey, are you talking about me, or Harley Quinn?” Pam heard Batman say before the line went dead. She tossed the communicator back to Batgirl. “Just so we’re clear: This never happened.”

            “Oh, totally. Never. What happened? Wiped from my mind,” Batgirl cut Nightwing free with a Batarang and stood him upright. “Let’s get out of here, fellas. Before Ivy makes us join in for a round of sing-alongs.”

            “So, wait,” Robin held up a hand. “We’re _not_ going to arrest her?!”

            “C’mon, little man.” Nightwing ruffled Robin’s hair, and together he and Batgirl shot off the same way Red Robin had gone.

            Robin, turning to Pam, pointed two fingers at his eyes, then back at Pam, and left, too.

            Pam groaned. She needed a stiff drink.

* * *

 

            “Oh…cat toys…thanks, Selina,” Harley forced a smile as she sat surrounded in freshly torn wrapping paper.

            Selina raised her mug of coffee and winked. “Isis _loves_ them. I’m sure the hyenas will like them, too.”

              Experimentally, Harley chucked one of the catnip toys at Bud. He caught it in his mouth and chewed once before swallowing it whole. Pam predicted the whole box of toys would be eaten or destroyed by the end of the night.

            “A’right, Red, I waited to open yours last like always,” Harley said as if choosing to open one present over the other first when there were only two to choose from was a favor. “I know ya shy, but now’s the time.”

            Pam, cheeks red, tossed Harley the small gift-wrapped box.

            “A laugh machine!” Harley launched herself to her feet. “She opened the box and pulled the “Try Me!” tab. “Knock, knock!”

            Selina and Pam groaned. “Who’s there?”

            “Al?”

            “Al who?”

            Harley laughed so hard she almost didn’t need to toy in her hand. “Al _kiss_ you if you open this door!”

            She pressed the button and the fakest laughter Pam had ever heard came from the machine. Harley was silent a long second. Pam couldn’t see her face, but she could already guess that Harley had grown bored of the tacky gift. She should have just stolen her the shoes; at least she could put them on her feet when Pam forced her to dress up.

            “Red, there’s a receipt in this box.”

            “Oh,” Pam bit her cheek. “I must’ve forgotten to take it out.”

            “Ya,” Harley paused again. “Ya _paid_ for this?”

            There it was. Pam readied herself for Harley to critique the gift, probably going into how it wasn’t worth the money.

            Harley rushed into Pam and hugged her so tight she wasn’t prepared to hug back. Or breathe for that matter. Hot tears wet her cheek.

            “I love it I love it I love it I love it I love it I—” Harley chanted in her ear.

            Selina, smirking, kicked the floor. “I’m, uh, gonna leave you two crazy kids alone. And find my earplugs. If I lose my hearing, it ain’t going to be today, and not because of Harley shouting Yahtzee.”

            Pam shot Selina the bird.

            Selina shot it back.

            Harley drew Pam into a soft kiss.

            And Christmas had only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a specific kind of headcanon for the way the Rogues interact with the Batfam, and I realize that isn't universal for everyone, so consider this something of a crack fic, if the kids still call em that these days.


End file.
